


Everybody Wants

by Snarky_Synesthete



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers Tower, Everybody Wants Steve Rogers, First Kiss, M/M, Magic, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Sex Pollen, Steve Rogers-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-11
Updated: 2017-07-11
Packaged: 2018-11-30 16:23:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11467245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snarky_Synesthete/pseuds/Snarky_Synesthete
Summary: Wanda has an...interesting...dream about a certain Captain, leading to her unintentionally using her magic to make everyone in the Tower fall in lust with Steve. Cue awkward gropings and Bucky being oddly unaffected.





	Everybody Wants

Somewhere around the unholy hour of 3 AM, someone was knocking frantically at Steve Roger’s door.

 

Steve, startled immediately into wakefulness, was reaching for his shield before it occurred to him that if someone was attempting to infiltrate his floor in Avengers Tower, they would probably not knock first.

 

He sat up and shook his head, trying to clear his mind of the dream he’d been having. Another nightmare. Losing Bucky again. Steve rolled his neck, wondering how he’d gotten lucky enough for his best friend to be returned to him after lifetimes apart. Now the Winter Soldier had his own floor in the Tower, an Avenger in his own right, and Steve couldn’t be happier. (Well. He could. But he’d never been able to think too clearly about how he felt about his childhood friend – not in the 40s, certainly not after the ice and the Soldier and the reunion.)

 

Steve was pushed out of his thoughts by a small voice at his door.

  
“Steve, I don’t care if you’re still asleep, I’m coming in.” A creeping red light outlined the door, twined around the knob...there was a sound of clicking locks and an ineffectual beeping, and Wanda Maximoff stepped into the foyer. Steve had risen at the sound of Wanda’s voice and had walked into the living room just in time to see the door open. Wanda shut it quickly behind her and then walked too quickly towards Steve, her eyes wide, looking up at him with...fear?

 

“What’s wrong, what’s going on?” Steve asked, still a bit sleepy. “You look like you saw a ghost.”

 

Wanda shook her head. She opened her mouth to speak, but as she looked up into Steve’s earnest blue eyes, she began to blush. She looked down and wrung her hands together.

 

“I – I don’t really know any easy way to tell you this.”

 

Steve quirked an eyebrow. “Did – did something happen?”

 

Wanda nodded.

 

“Did you...magic something?”

 

She nodded again.

 

“Something...Ok kid, you’re gonna have to help me out here. I need something to work with.”

 

Wanda sighed. “It’s. You.”

 

Steve held out his hands in a “go on” gesture.

 

“I might have accidentally...magicked...you.”

 

Steve straightened his back, looking over Wanda’s head. He nodded. “Ok, but I don’t feel particularly magicked. Are you sure it wasn’t just...I don’t know...a bad dream?”

 

Her blush deepened. “I wouldn’t say that.”

 

“Well what WOULD you say? I can’t help if I don’t know what’s going on.”

 

Wanda walked over to Steve’s couch. She sat down, curled herself around a throw pillow, hugging it with her arms, and carefully avoided meeting Steve’s gaze. “I had a...dream...about you.”

 

“Ok,” Steve said, putting his hands in the pockets of his pajama pants. He shrugged at her, a small motion to get her to keep talking.

 

She rolled her eyes. “It was. A very explicit. Sex. Dream.”

 

His eyes widened. He shuffled a bit in place, kicking at the carpet.

 

Wanda buried her face in the pillow. She made a muffled sound that might have been “I’m sorry” or “Fuck everything,” Steve couldn’t quite tell. It might not even have been English.

 

Steve chuckled a little. “That makes sense, I guess. A wet dream about me WOULD be magical.”

 

Wanda lifted her head, eyes burning with disapproval. “You’re teasing me!”

 

Steve laughed and sat on the other end of the couch. “Yeah, I am. What’s the big deal? Dreams are dreams, don’t worry so much about it. I’m not about to ravish you.”

 

She glared at him. “I am NOT wanting to have sex with you, Steven Rogers. I am TELLING you that...sometimes, when I dream...magic just...happens. And I think that I did something. While I was dreaming about...that...” she trailed off. “And I don’t know how many people it may have affected. Not yourself obviously, you are still making the worst jokes. Nothing different.”

 

Steve’s smile faded. “Who it affected? You mean, their minds?”

 

Wanda nodded gravely.

 

“What will it do to them? How will we know?”

 

She shrugged, tired. “Tomorrow is Saturday. Big Avengers breakfast meeting, yes? We will probably know then. Although,” she paused, tilting her head, “Someone might show up here before then, if they were particularly...susceptible.”

 

“Susceptible to…?”

 

“Your...attraction. If someone is already attracted to you, they might not be able to control themselves. I’m not,” she waved her arms ineffectually, “I’m not in any way of knowing, either who they are or how my magic will mess with their heads.” She was quiet for a moment, hugging the pillow again. “This hasn’t happened in a long time.”

 

“Sorry, kiddo.” Steve leaned closer, smiling in a way that was both sheepish and conspiratory. “If it makes you feel any better, I once had a sex dream about Donald Duck.”

 

Wanda burst into hysterical giggles. “What? How could that even happen?”

 

Steve’s laughter joined hers. “Insane, I know. Back in the day, you know, porn wasn’t everywhere like it is now. And it was real illegal – couldn’t mail it, couldn’t photograph it, everything had to be illustrated.” Steve shrugged. “I was an artist – couldn’t get much work during the Depression, but there was always someone willing to pay for smut. The wackier, the better. People’ve always been nasty. So I did a lot of dirty little pictures – bluesies, we called ‘em – and I got a commission from this one publisher who wanted Donald Duck doing a bunch of filthy stuff. I drew some of the silliest shit I’ve ever done, got paid. And after a whole afternoon of drawing a beloved character with his dick out, I guess it just got into my brain.” Steve leaned his head back against the couch, chuckling to himself. “It happens.”

 

“That’s disgusting,” Wanda said, looking at Steve in awe. “That’s certainly not in the Smithsonian exhibit.”

 

“Yeah, but it’s online still. You can Google it.” Steve winked at her and gave her his hand, pulling her to standing. He walked her to his door. “Go back to bed, kid. We’ll see who’s standing at attention during breakfast.”

 

Wanda snickered, giving Steve one last, bright-eyed look before walking into the dim hallway. Steve shut the door and heard it lock automatically. Running his hand through his hair, he went back to bed. Tomorrow would, if nothing else, be interesting.

 

(Especially in regards to Bucky, his mind supplied.)

 

(Talk about a dream, Steve thought to himself.)

 

* * *

 

Steve sleeps just a touch late the next morning. If he spends a few extra minutes straightening his softest, most comfortable, tightest t-shirt in the mirror, well. That’s between him and his mirror. If, perhaps, he talks to himself in the elevator ride to the communal floor, well. That’s between him and FRIDAY.

 

“Rogers. You will not enjoy this. This is all spellcasting and weird mindfuckery. You are a professional and these are your teammates. And maybe nothing happened and Wanda was just overexcited and this will be a simple, normal breakfast.”

 

Steve most certainly would not, if asked, admitted that he was just slightly looking forward to maybe being a little fawned over. Not because he was Captain America, but just because he was Steve Rogers. It had always been Bucky during their youth – dashing James Buchanan Barnes, a girl on each arm (and Steve trailing behind, not jealous, nope, not a bit) – who had been fawned over and made much of. Little Stevie Rogers had been tolerated, but never admired. (Except by Bucky, who Steve sometimes caught looking his way with eyes like stars...Steve always looked away, embarrassed, knowing that he wasn’t good enough for Buck and it just wasn’t _done_.)

 

The elevator slid open, and Pepper was there to greet him. This wasn’t unusual, as she usually had some sort of informational packet about this or that PR-related thing, but today her hands were empty...and that was unusual. No phone, no Stark Tablet, no smoothly-anonymous manila envelope. What she did have in her hands, very suddenly and without preamble, were Steve’s pectoral muscles.

 

“Good morning, Captain,” she purred, trailing her hands down his chest.

 

_Oh shit_ , Steve thought, as his hands fluttered up to shoulder-height and waggled lamely, like two confused and oversized moths. “Good morning to YOU, Miss Potts!” He gently took her hands in his own and pulled them down. She took this as invitation to move closer, pressing her body in a lithe line along his.

 

Steve’s back hit the elevator. “Wanda??” He called in the direction of the kitchen.

 

“Stay – NO! Stay there, you sit back down, I’ll bring him here – stay THERE!” Wanda’s voice grew louder as she approached the elevator, shouting over her shoulder at the kitchen. “Steve, I did warn you...”

 

“This is fine, we can just – talk her down, right?” Steve said hopefully, still holding Pepper’s hand to keep them from wandering.

 

“Try it,” Wanda said, shrugging.

 

He furrowed his brow and brought Pepper’s hands up to where he could keep an eye on them. “Pepper, hey! Good morning! No, hey doll, eyes up here. My eyes are right here. Hi!” He said, smiling as she dragged her eyes to his. “Pep, this is some magic nonsense. Straighten up. Don’t feel people up without asking.” Her eyes, which seemed a little dazed and unfocused, grew sharper. “Hi, there you are, hey Pep.”

 

“Steve,” she said a little dazedly, “Hi, hey, you look. Really very nice today.” She was making an effort to keep her eyes on his face.

 

“Yeah, thanks, you look great too, but this is magic. You’re just...you’re magicked. I guess. So let’s maybe join the rest of the team for breakfast?”

 

Pepper nodded and pulled her hands away, although she was clearly struggling to keep them to herself. “Right. Yes, of course. Wanda was just about to make an announcement.”

 

Steve eyed her, one snarky eyebrow raised. “Couldn’t have gotten to that a bit sooner?”

 

Wanda shook her head and threw her arms out wildly. “I couldn’t get them to stop talking about you, oh he is so dreamy, oh Captain my Captain!” She pointed into the kitchen and gestured strongly for him to move.

 

“No, wait,” she said as they neared the threshold, “You just stay right here, out of sight for a moment, and let me talk to them. They would not hear a word I say if you were standing next to me.” She said what Steve assumed was either a short prayer or a long curse in her native tongue under her breath before turning back and walking into the kitchen.

 

“Aw, Witchy-poo, you said you were bringing him? What happened? The good Captain think none of us are good enough for him?” Tony drawled from where he was leaning on the counter, his pose studiously casual.

 

“As if he would have chosen you in any case, Stark,” Natasha smirked at him.

 

Tony rolled his eyes. The other began to talk over each other, repeating their own merits and interests in getting Steve’s attention focused on them.

 

Steve, waiting outside the door, noticed that Bucky’s voice seemed to be absent from the din. He did tend to take longer to get to breakfast – not because he slept in, but because he often couldn’t relax enough to eat in such a large group and had to psyche himself up for it, usually with an extended perimeter check.

 

Wanda was trying to speak up over the volume, but it took her a few tries to get everyone’s attention focused on her. “All right, listen to me now. All eyes, all ears. Tony, put that down and turn around. Clint, get down from the fridge where you can hear me properly. Now,” she paused, taking a deep breath and fidgeting. “I have accidentally created a force in your minds that has made you all...” she trailed off, deeply uncomfortable, “It has made you all very sexually attracted to Steve.”

 

“No shit,” Bruce deadpanned.

 

“It was an accident, it was a dream that spiraled out of my control. Thanks be to God that Thor is off-world, because I don’t think I could hold him off; thanks be to God that the staff on the lower floors seems to have been out of my radius, thanks be to God that Vision is off working with Strange. SO. None of what you are feeling is real. And none of you must act on your...” she trailed off again, blushing to the tips of her ears, “Your urges. This will pass, and probably quickly. As quickly as a dream fades,” she added hopefully.

 

The gathered Avengers looked around at each other. Clint shifted in his seat.

 

“I’m going to wait this one out in the Room,” Bruce said, heading out of the kitchen the back way toward his floor with the specially-designed Hulk-proof space Tony had helped him build.

 

“Best plan, good plan. Natasha and I will. Um,” Clint raised an eyebrow in her direction, questioning.

 

“Be back later,” Natasha said, taking Clint’s hand and following Bruce’s direction, heading for a different floor altogether.

 

Natasha almost ran into Bucky, who moved as quietly as she did and could still surprise her on occasion. She chirped something at him in Russian, which he answered with a profoundly confused look. She glanced back over her shoulder and saw Steve peeking around the edge of the kitchen’s entrance. Their eyes met, and her pupils dilated. She took a deep breath, glared hard at Bucky, and fled with Clint.

 

Bucky looked around, confused and wary. “Where are the pancakes?”

 

Tony shrugged, the last one left besides Wanda...and Steve, who was tentatively easing his way into the kitchen. Steve saw Tony’s eyes darken from where he stood in the doorway. Saw his hands clench and unclench, felt his eyes roving down to his lips, neck, chest, groin, thighs, and back up again. Steve had never felt more exposed, not even his first night on stage in the damn Captain America bond-selling tights. Tony’s eyes _consumed_ him. He looked like a starving man being dropped off at an all-you-can-eat buffet.

 

“Tony,” Steve said cautiously, “You ok, pal?”

 

That seemed to snap Tony back to reality. “I’m fine. Tip top shape. Wonder where Pepper got off.”

 

Steve raised an eyebrow.

 

Tony spluttered. “Got off TO, where’d she get off to, where’d she go, that...that little firecracker. Better just. Go. Look for her! I can do that. I’m doing it now, going...to look..for her...” He had been walking toward the kitchen door where Steve was standing. He started off quickly, but slowed down when he got close to Steve, like he’d gotten caught in the man’s orbit. Tony looked up at him, his gaze lingering on Steve’s neck, and then his lips. Mindlessly, _filthily_ , Tony licked his own lips and bit down, dragging his teeth across his bottom lip, making a noise that was quiet but still indecent.

 

Steve looked down into Tony’s darkened eyes. “Find Pepper, yeah?” He said, stepping to the side to give Tony space to walk past.

 

“FIND PEPPER. YEAH.” Tony all but shouted, rocketing past Steve and Wanda and fleeing the scene.

 

Wanda giggled. She looked at Steve and Bucky, at all the fruit and fixings laid out on the table. No one had gotten around to making the actual pancakes. She picked up the bowl of strawberries and a carafe of orange juice. “I’m taking this to my room. You people are exhausting. I think you can handle just one on your own, Steve.”

 

Steve choked on air. “Wait, Wanda, you don’t -” But he heard the ding of the elevator and knew she was already gone.

 

Steve turned around, expecting (and shamefully, desperately hoping) that he would find Bucky, eyes dark with desire and lit with ideas, like Tony’s had been. But Bucky was stirring the thickened bowl of pancake batter on the counter, where Tony had obviously at least started the process. He added a little milk and whisked it in.

 

Steve went through a series of emotions in a very short moment. First, relief, that he wouldn’t have to deal with any of this madness from his best friend. Followed shortly was disappointment, because Steve had hid the secret of his love for Bucky for years and he would be lying to himself if he hadn’t been excited at the prospect of Bucky finally returning the attraction. Next he felt shame and a little bit of fear, knowing that even if his friend had been in the radius of Wanda’s dream blast, Steve wouldn’t have allowed himself to act on it, it wouldn’t have been actual consent, and then the magic would have cleared off and everything would have been horrible. The feeling Steve finally settled on was back to the beginning: relief, that everything could stay as it was between himself and Bucky. Their friendship had always been enough for Steve, and although he’d fantasized about more, the fact that Bucky was alive and well with him in this century was more than he’d ever dared to hope for.

 

“You okay there, punk?” Bucky asked, clicking on the stove and buttering the griddle. “I ain’t getting fancy with this shit – you can put your fruit on the top.”

 

Steve’s shoulders relaxed, and he walked over to sit at the table. “Language, Buck,” he chuckled. “You swear like a goddamn sailor.”

 

Bucky snorted. That had been their inside joke for the better part of their lives – especially in the Army, where their respective vocabularies had gotten even more colorful. Steve watched Bucky flip the pancakes deftly, wielding the spatula with his metal hand with as much grace as he could wield a knife. “So what’s with all the weirdness this morning? Why did everyone...” Bucky made a motion with his flesh hand, “Scatter?”

 

Steve hung his head in his hands and laughed until his shoulders shook. When he sat up and saw Bucky looking at him, head tilted, still waiting for an explanation, Steve felt such a wave of gratefulness wash over him that he almost couldn’t stand it. It was the 21st century, he wasn’t sick or sore at all, and Bucky was making him a pancake breakfast. Also the girl upstairs had cast a bizarre spell on his whole team that had left them all desperate to get into his pants. Steve shook his head at his entire life.

 

“Well, Buck,” he started, “Just be glad that you were out and about all night. You dodged a damn bullet.”

 

Bucky slid the flapjacks off of the griddle and onto a plate, clicking off the stove and bringing them to to the table. “What are you talking about?” He asked as he dragged a stack off the top and onto Steve’s waiting plate. “I’ve been here all night.”

 

Steve stilled. He looked carefully at Bucky, who was slathering a ridiculous amount of butter onto his stack of pancakes. “I mean,” Steve floundered, “You were. What? Sleeping on the roof again?”

 

Bucky shook his head, pouring syrup.

 

“Bad night, then, huh? Perimeter walks, I dunno...basement brooding?”

 

Bucky smiled. “Basement brooding. I like that.” He shoved a thick wedge of pancake layers into his mouth, caught the dripping syrup on his flesh thumb, and brought it to his mouth to lick clean.

 

Steve was having a little trouble breathing.

 

“You gonna eat or what?” Bucky said around a mouthful of pancake, gesturing with his fork.

 

Steve grabbed for the syrup and poured it absently over his food. “So. Good night’s sleep, then?”

 

“Decent, yeah. Better than usual, actually. No nightmares.”

 

“On your floor. The one below mine but above Natasha’s.”

 

Bucky set his fork down. “What’s the problem?”

 

Flustered, Steve hurriedly ate a bite of pancake to buy him some time. “The serum!” he said loudly, mouth full of food.

 

Bucky stared at him. “The serum,” he said blankly.

 

“That’s gotta be it, you’re just. Immune to Wanda’s...powers.”

 

“You’re gonna have to be more specific, Stevie.”

 

He felt his customary pool of warmth in the small of his back, the sensation he got every time Buck called him Stevie, ever since he was 12.

 

Steve shuffled in his seat, shifting his weight nervously, awkwardly. It made him look much smaller, and something in Bucky’s eyes softened. “What’s botherin you?”

 

Steve sighed. “Wanda did a magic thing. By accident. She had a dream and now everybody’s...got an itch they can’t scratch.”

 

Bucky’s eyebrows raised slowly, climbing towards his hairline. “An itch.”

 

Steve swallowed. Nodded.

 

“What kind of itch? Unscratchable, I got that, but…?”

 

Steve looked down at his feet, unable to look at Bucky as he mumbled. “I’m the itch.” He peeked up and saw Bucky’s eyebrows knit together. “Wanda had a hot dream about me, and her magic did something weird, and it affected everyone in the Tower except the folks on the lowest floors.”

 

Bucky picked his fork back up and cut a vicious chunk out of his pancakes, shoving them into his mouth with more force than was strictly necessary. “What happened,” he asked, dead-voiced.

 

“N-nothing happened, Buck, the team was just...enthusiastic?” Steve brought a hand to scrub at the back of his neck. He was more uncomfortable explaining this to Bucky than he was about Pepper getting to second base.

 

“Enthusiastic.” Bucky’s voice was still metered and low, quietly menacing.

 

Steve nodded.

 

“That’s why Tony was acting like he was gonna eat you alive,” Bucky said, “I thought he was just day-drinking.”

 

Steve smiled. “Nope.” He laughed at the silliness of the situation. “Thirsty for _some_ thing though, I guess.”

 

Bucky glared at him, eyes dark.

 

Steve gulped. “But hey, the serum seems to have made you immune, so, congratulations. No uncomfortable urges. Even Pepper was all nuts, started feeling me up the second I stepped off the elevator -”

 

Bucky’s fork snapped in two.

 

Steve stared.

 

“I’m immune. Yeah.”

 

Steve’s mouth went dry at the tone of Buck’s voice – low and growling, feral.

 

“It’s not because of the serum, though.”

 

Bucky stood, dropped the pieces of his fork on the table, and moved around it towards Steve. He moved like a cat after a mouse, slinking and slow, dangerous and sensual.

 

“It’s because it’s like a fucking _vaccine,_ ” he paused, licked his lips, “I can’t _get_ it, because I’ve already _had_ it.”

 

Bucky crouched next to Steve on the tile floor, looking at him through his lashes, lips parted.

 

“I’ve wanted you forever. This magic shit is a drop in a goddamn _bucket_.”

 

“B-but, Buck, I -”

 

Bucky grabbed Steve’s knee, sliding his hand up to thumb at his hipbone. “All Wanda seems to have done here is make it so I don’t have to _fight_ it anymore...and gives me an excuse to do this.” He leaned up and pressed his lips to the angle of Steve’s jaw, soft and gentle and _searing_ _hot_.

 

Steve made a broken sound and grabbed Bucky’s hand from his hips. “No, Buck, Wanda said none of this is _real_ , you gotta stop before you do something -”

 

“Before I do something I shoulda done when we were fifteen, yeah ok Rogers, I’ll get right on that,” Bucky said, pulling Steve’s hand to his mouth to kiss the tips of his fingers, the ridge of his knuckles. He panted as Bucky touched the tip of his tongue to Steve’s thumb, before running it down the length and drawing it into his mouth. He looked at Bucky’s eyes, which were so dark he could see himself reflected clearly in their depths, mouth open, chest heaving.

 

“Buck, you know I gotta – I have to make you stop, I can’t let you do this.”

 

Bucky sucked on Steve’s thumb like it was all he’d ever wanted out of life. He pulled off with another lick to the tip. “You don’t want me to stop. I see how blown your eyes are. I can see lots of things,” he said, staring at Steve’s growing erection with hunger in his eyes.

 

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” Steve said, as Bucky leaned forward and nuzzled at Steve’s cock. “Stop it, I’m telling you Bucky, STOP.” With every ounce of willpower he possessed, he pushed his chair back away from Bucky, who was left leaning forward, reaching out to Steve.

 

“Stevie, babydoll, come on. We shoulda been doing this for years. I can see how much you want it, please, baby, don’t go.” Bucky babbled, his pleading words incongruous with the deep danger of his voice.

 

Steve took a deep breath, then dropped onto the floor with Bucky. He took his hands and held them, noticing that they were both trembling. “Buck,” he said softly, “I’ve never wanted anything more than what you wanna give me. But I’d be lying to you if I said I didn’t want this. You’re right, and it’s killin me.”

 

Bucky looked up, and leaned in to kiss Steve, who leaned back out of reach again. “If you still wanna do this once Wanda’s spell wears off, I’m in.”

 

Bucky made a frustrated, growling noise. “Want you now, Stevie, please, ‘ve wanted you for so long, you have no idea,” he whined low, reaching for Steve.

 

“I have too, I have too Buck, honest I have, please just,” Steve wrangled Bucky’s hands into his own and held them, as he’d done with Pepper, “Please just be real with me, ok?” He smiled weakly, a smile of defeat, “So’s I know you really want this, and it’s not just something cooked up in a half-crazy dream.” He squeezed Bucky’s hands tighter. “So’s I know it’s really _you,_ and really what you want.”

 

Bucky’s eyes cleared. He breathed deeply – in through his nose, out through his mouth. “Gotta be such a fuckin saint, huh Rogers? Can’t just let good things happen.”

 

Steve smiled to hear Bucky teasing him again. “Wouldn’t be good if you weren’t yourself.” Steve stood up, offering Bucky his hand to help pull him up. “Wouldn’t be right.”

 

Buck rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, ya goddamn martyr. Eat your fucking pancakes.”

 

* * *

 

By the next morning, Natasha and Clint were clear of their obsession. They’d been able to work out most of their frustration on each other, either by sparring or with more “interpersonal calisthenics,” which Wanda claimed worked it faster out of their nervous systems. Bruce was back by lunch, looking embarrassed and unable to look Steve full in the face. Pepper took a week off and went to an undisclosed tropical island, leaving behind apologetic letters for both Steve and Tony, although the content of each was drastically different. Tony popped in at every mealtime, but took one dark look at Steve and walked out each time. It wasn’t until the following morning that Tony was able to be in the same room a Steve, and it was only after dinner that he was able to hold a conversation. Wanda shrugged and said something musical-sounding in her native tongue that had both Bucky and Natasha laughing, so Steve figured it was over.

 

That night, he went to Bucky’s floor.

 

He knocked on his door, terrified about everything.

 

When Bucky opened the door, wearing oversized flannel pajama bottoms and no shirt, Steve shuffled his feet, blushing, sure he’d made the worst mistake of his life. He should have let Bucky come to him if he still had any real feelings, he should have asked if it was okay to come by, he should have -

 

His train of thought was cut off by Bucky grabbing his arm and pulling him inside the apartment. The door shut behind him and Steve found himself with his back against it, Bucky pressed in a long firm line against his chest. He flashed back to how Pepper had greeted him outside the elevator and felt a stab of fear, that Bucky was still under Wanda’s influence.

 

“Well hey there, Captain,” Bucky teased him. “What brings you to my barracks tonight?”

 

Steve blushed deeper – he could feel it creeping down his neck. “I just uh. I was checking to see if you were. Feeling more yourself, BUT I can see that you’re still -”

 

Bucky nodded. “Still crazy about you, like I been since I was a stupid kid?”

 

Steve shook his head, “Don’t say that, Buck.”

 

“It’s true. Thought it was gonna kill me, watching you so sick, half-dying every winter. Hearing the guys at the docks talk about fairies, deviants, thinking that what I felt for you was gonna make you sick or somethin. Talking to the guys in the army, swappin stories about their best gals back home – I told ‘em all about my sweet little blondie with the big blue eyes, how feisty she was, how she was gonna make an honest man outta me...”

 

Steve gripped the waistband of Bucky’s pants, feeling his legs go a little wobbly. “You – told your army buddies I was your girl?”

 

“My sweet Stevie back home,” Bucky chuckled darkly, “They all thought it was short for Stephanie.”

 

Steve surged forward and caught Bucky’s mouth, capturing his lips with his own, drinking him down like a man dying of thirst. Bucky gave as good as he got, lips moving desperately against each other, trying to cram a thousand kisses into one.

 

As far as first kisses go, Steve thought dazedly as Bucky pulled him towards the bedroom, this one was worth waiting for.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the song "Everybody Wants" by The Struts. 
> 
> This hasn't been beta-read - all mistakes are from my own stupid self. 
> 
> Inspired by Tumblr prompt: "everyone is affected by some sort of love spell and falls in love with person A but person B's behavior curiously doesn't change at all!"
> 
> I'm considering adding as second chapter just for the smut, but we'll see how it goes. Let me know if you want more!


End file.
